The Way of the Shinobi
by neela
Summary: They knew it might be their last night... KakaSaku.
1. Night

_**Fandom: **Naruto  
**Author: **neela  
**Rating:** T (PG-13)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto at all. It all belongs to Kishimoto-sama...  
_

* * *

They knew it might be their last night. 

War was upon them; friends had been slaughtered before their eyes, the number of orphans littering the streets among broken ruins was growing rapidly every blood-filled day that passed. Those veterans still alive, who could remember back to the Demon Fox's attack on the village, would say that this was much worse.

Lately, the mortality rate had been picking up. People were dying in greater numbers, civilians and shinobi alike. There had been little breaks between the waves of attack striking against Konoha yet suddenly, today, it had stopped abruptly. Scouts had reported a temporarily retreat among the enemy. Meaning only one thing: regrouping. Tomorrow would be a clash of fates, a battle foregoing every battle they had seen thus far.

As a result of this, the Hokage made a speech, the second longest since his taking of office. It was to the people, those still standing, those hidden away in secret locations so that they were not caught up in the battle, and those unable to do anything but lie still with bandages wrapped around their bodies. A speech filled with determination and heart, telling volumes of the love he held for the village that had been his home for the last twenty-five years. Just looking into those blue cerulean eyes had broken the last barrier of doubt in the people's mind.

It had been such a strong, numb-sensing experience that people's spirits were dragged out of the dark holes they had fled to after what seemed like a futile defence, and into the light with a tentative smile.

As a closing suggestion, in some ways an order, but spoken so softly none found it in their hearts to refuse him, he had told them this was the most important night of their lives, so live without regrets, seize the night. Or in common tongue: find your loved ones and spend this fateful night with them. No one knows what tomorrow brings.

The very epitome of shinobi life—you never knew when the luring darkness would consume you and embrace you in its cold. And he told them to have no regrets, to do exactly what they wanted without remorse and live their lives to the fullest.

No one had cheered, but the air felt cleaner, more hopeful. The morale of the broken village was lifted sky-high because of one man's words, a young man who had sworn his life to protect the village he loved like his father before him. There were smiles of secrecy, happiness and pure euphoria on everyone's faces. Even those who knew for certain that their lives were ebbing out of them through wounds acquired in earlier battles could not help but crack a grin at the comrade lying next to them. For certain, everyone would follow the Rokudaime's suggestion and had already begun to break up.

She knew the Hokage himself had gone straight to the Hyuuga compound with his wife and son; there was no doubt about it. Others around her had also dispersed with their respective or not-so-respective ones. Everyone was seeking comfort in some way, even the most hardened of warriors. As for her…the ones she really loved, the reduced band of friends, those she really cared about, had already been swallowed by evening shadows as they sought the heated embraces of others or each other. And there she stood, alone on the hill overlooking the faces of previous heroes, the cold wind biting into her skin where her clothes were torn from this morning's battle.

No, not exactly alone. There was one other person, a man that she still cared a lot about, more than she had wanted to admit. They had barely seen each other in the past five months since the whole damn war began, but the brief moments when they met had seemed like both eternities and short-lived meetings.

Something had rapidly changed between them during that time. They were no longer viewing each other as sensei and student. In the furious battles they had fought as fellow jounins of the Konoha Leaf, protected each other's backs as the enemy rolled over them, treated each other's wounds with no thought whatsoever that they might show more of themselves than they would have had the war not happened. Their pasts, background history and age had disappeared in the heat of the battle, leaving only a male and female shinobi doing their utmost to protect the village and people that they love.

Neither spoke their feelings out loud, but just a look into each other's eyes was enough to speak volumes. It was a mutual acknowledgment that she had grown up beyond her years due to the war, but he obviously did not think it was a bad thing. Neither did her; if she had to admit so.

She found him by the memorial of fallen friends, past and present, the silver in his hair caught by the moonlight. He did not turn as she approached, but she knew he would sense her presence. Though greatly improved in stealth, even masking her chakra, she could never fool this man. He knew her too well.

Taking up the space next to him, she did not look at his face as her eyes sought automatically down to the names engraved into the stone. Write something in sand and it would disappear with the harshness of wind or water. Write something in stone and it would last for eternity, no matter how many hardships it faced.

And there were so many faces to connect to the stone.

Tears were no longer part of her person. She had seen too much, learned too much, heard too much and felt too much to let even a single tear roll down from the corner of her eye. All in the space of five months, the war had hardened her, made her rock-hard and sharp around the edges. There were barely any memory left of things such as emotions. She had become a tool and tools do not cry. Because of this damned war she had lost many things precious to her. Her past, her present, even possibly her future, had all but gone in the drain. Everything was buried six feet under.

_And yet..._

Tomorrow was the day the outcome of this war would be decided. Rokudaime had advised them all to spend this night without regrets, without personal limits, to live their life truly to the fullest. In a way, that would ensure them a happy death. She had to admit, before the Hokage's speech, she had been uncaring of whether she died happily or not. It all came to them in the end, so what did it truly matter if she had but a shred of light in her heart or not? Death was the same to all people, shinobi or civilian, rich or poor, evil or good. There were no differences in the afterlife.

At least that had been what she had thought.

The Hokage had made her view it from a different angle. Even after all the cold shrugs and icy responses she had fed him, he was stubborn enough to still try and rub off his kindness and happy smiles as always. Especially when he realised her situation was not unique to her, that in fact almost every shinobi went to their battles with darkness and doubts in their hearts. So he set to change them all, which he did.

"_Seize the night, seize the day, and receive with pleasure what life gives you. Let your heart rejoice this night, let the life be embraced totally without regrets. No thoughts of tomorrow. No thoughts of the future. Banish the stone walls around your hearts and cease to be tools for the night._

_And most of all: let the light stream into the dark cavern of your hearts."_

She hoped she was able to do it, if not for her sake then for the Hokage's. If there was one thing she hated, then it would be to let him down, to sit with guilt over not being able to carry out his "command". But she guessed it all came down to one thing; whether or not her intended partner was thinking along the same lines or not.

He could really be a cold-hearted perverted bastard most of the time.

They stood in complete silence, watching the never-fading names on the stone and the faces on the mountains. Six in total, the last one only half-finished as it had not been that long since the Rokudaime was chosen. Just before the war, in fact. He had been overjoyed when the Godaime had finally managed to convince the council who her successor would be when she retired about a year ago. Since then he had constantly done his best to gain the respect and love of the people in the village.

When the war began, people had still carried some of their grudges of old, but it had been thrown to the wind when he defeated the remaining Akatsuki members in the first battle. People loved him now, looked to him for hope even as their light diminished in their hearts. He had turned what would have been utter defeat into a five month long stance against the enemy. He had shown there could be light in the end of the tunnel, and that he would give his life for it without question.

Standing beneath the moonlight, gazing on memoirs of a past long gone, she felt the silence was starting to cooperate with the heavy push of the night, beginning to slowly suffocate her. Everyone else was probably already getting their comfort somewhere, with friends or lovers, whereas she was still too caught up in her past to think about the present. No thoughts about the future, not tonight, that she had promised during the Hokage's speech.

'_Follow your heart to your greatest desire. Don't let tomorrow dictate your present. Live free.'_

Those words had remained in her heart. Who had been the one to tell them? Not the Hokage, as his statement had been much subtler. Not the Pig—she would never be so considerate to her feelings. It had been…

Her eyes opened before she realised she had closed them. The moon seemed to have moved just a breath since she had come here, and yet it felt like an eternity. It always did in his presence nowadays. Him, the man standing beside her like he had no care in the world.

But the truth was that he did care, quite a lot actually, even more than he seemed to allow himself. She had noticed after their former team mate's defection. Especially the time said person had been killed in his fight with the then ANBU captain, now Rokudaime. He had cared quite much in those days, even opened himself to the remaining two to share their common grief. And knowing what had happened in his past, the events that made him pay homage to this particular memorial site every morning, she knew he still cared. No erected shields around his heart or blank expression would ever fool her again. She had seen and she would never forget. But for his sake, she would keep it secret, even if to her own mind.

The darkness of night was creeping over her again, the light of the moon diminishing as her thoughts were forced onto another topic, which unfortunately was tomorrow. She sighed lowly, hoping both that he had heard and not. She hated being weak and admitting she needed something, especially after she had grown used to being a heartless tool...just like him.

Gazing up at the moon, her heart constricted painfully beneath her skin as more scenarios rolled off into her mind of the possible outcomes and happenings of the impending battle. It was almost enough to wound up a treacherous tear (wow, the heart really took its liberty to the limit once she let it). However, no matter how much she tried to not think of it, the darkness only drew her closer and embraced her, sending cold shivers up and down her spine.

Her fists tightened as her eyes closed, letting herself be swallowed by the empty vastness.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a soft brush across her knuckles drove away all the darkness and left her once again on the grass-covered hill overlooking the Hokage statues, breathing a little heavily next to the man with silver hair. Her eyes were trained on the memorial, breath caught in her throat as the brush disappeared as soon as it had come. Nothing else met her skin, no follow-up on the tantalizing caress. Disappointment churned uncomfortably in her stomach.

Her heart clammed up again, but not without thumping sharply against the wall of her chest.

Turning around with every intent of leaving, she was shocked when a hand suddenly shot out and grasped around her upper arm firmly, drawing her back from the first step. Eyes swivelled around, only to meet…the profile of one silver-haired jounin staring down at the memorial. No, not staring, his visible eye had closed. But his grip did not relent, as if it had been instinct that drove his body to do this, and its message was clear.

Don't go.

And she found that she could not. Even if her life had depended on it, she could not leave this man alone in the night.

She opened her mouth to speak, only to have a tilt of his head pop his eye open to look down at her. No lazy smile, no indifferent expression, no trademark expressions at all. Only the bottomless blackness of his orb, drawing her into the depth she had not wallowed in before, not even during the most intimate moments while they were fighting.

Then another emotion entered his eye, his face, his entire body. Intensity so great the air was crackling with electricity. There was only one emotion connected to this type of intensity…and she suddenly realised who it had been to tell her to live free.

The walls crumbled immediately.

Before she knew it, a second hand had come and grasped her other arm firmly, with no hesitation in its actions as they drew her closer far too quickly to pull away. A fire sprung up in her belly, making her toes curl and her eyes blaze with a new spirit. Moving towards him in a moment far more intimate either of them had been in before, she remembered something. Something vital.

Even in the darkest and bloodiest of places, this man had made her feel alive, even if there was nothing in her mind at the time she could find to live for. Nothing except him.

There were no limits between them any longer, they had both acknowledged that fact long ago, but never acted upon it. But now, fuelled by the Hokage's suggestion and the path of darkness looming in front of them, they threw caution to the wind. No words were necessary; they both understood their bodies' call. No limits, no regrets, only pure passion—live freely.

They knew this might be their last night.

* * *

**Owari? To be continued? (REVIEW!)  
**

* * *

_I've been writing fan fiction for years, but this is the first time I've done anything from the Naruto universe, so I hope it'll fit in when all the other outstanding stories will overshadow it... Kakashi and Sakura are decidedly my top favourite characters, and together they just kick ass and make quite the lovely couple! I've got great faith in this pairing, though I doubt the great Kishimoto Masashi will ever make them hook up... _

_In this story, Sakura's 25 while Kakashi's 39. I'd never make write her as underage in a love story, unless it was a infuatiation... Oh, and does anyone know when the legal age is in Naruto? I remember the episode with Naruto fighting Gaara/Shuukaku together with Gamabunta, where Naruto complains about the frog saying they hadn't drunk sake together and he's not 20 yet. For future references, I will assume that the legal age is 20..._

_I'd love to continue this little piece with three more chapters, but it depends a little on what feedback I get and how inspirational/creative I get. If my muse won't be cooperative, I'm sad to say there's not much to do about it... But I AM WORKING on them, as well as another KakaSaku story that might come out soon if I manage to finish the first three-four chapters... We'll just have to wait and see. :) _


	2. Phoenix

_**Fandom: **Naruto  
**Author: **neela  
**Rating:** T (PG-13)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto at all. It all belongs to Kishimoto-sama..._

* * *

From this point on, things would change. 

She stood before the tall body-length mirror inside her bedroom, just off to the side by the walk-in closet, scrutinising the image appearing before her. The clothes hung loosely on her limbs, too big for the scrawny body that'd gone into dilapidation and never recovered. Matted shoulder-length hair was wrung up in knots from days spent in bed, hiding underneath the blanket, ignoring the knocks on the front door. And yet, it was the cause of curious wonder.

Shifting into profile view revealed the secret behind the decayed image, the reason for her little hint of a smile. There, right there underneath her bosom and above the trouser waistband, was a tiny curve. Almost too little to be seen, yet nevertheless connected to her body all the same.

She'd only found out today. If it hadn't been for her old sensei to come back to the village, dragging her out and forcing her to get something to eat, it would've never crossed her mind. The tempura had come out faster than it had gone down, almost sprayed out all over the kitchen floor had she not been lifted and hung over the sink. Ten seconds later she was undergoing a physical check, kept still only by the strong hands of her second younger sensei.

All women had been shocked to find out the cause was a little foetus just under fourteen weeks old, alive and kicking despite his mother's obvious maltreatment of her own health. The air had been peppered with questions of how, when and who before the admonishments came, followed closely with orders to shape up. She'd barely managed to deflect their questions, being in a daze as her mind swivelled back to that fateful night so long ago and the heated moments in a man's embrace.

It had never occurred to them then what the consequences would've been. To them, it was a night in which they should live freely and have no regrets. No precautions had been taken, though she could've sworn she'd been on birth control. All kunoichi were, by default, unless actively trying to conceive a baby. One never knew what they would have to do during their work as shinobi; it was better to be prepared than go through the gruelling aftermath. She had always hated it, knowing what a female shinobi would have to do, even if she was certain it would have been done if absolutely necessary. Just another side of the emotionless tool they were supposed to be.

Grimacing, she let the shirt fall back over her belly, covering the truth she wasn't sure how to handle. She could hear her two senseis rumbling around in the kitchen, or more likely one of them was while the other nursed a sake bottle, grumbling about the new events. They'd been displeased when she wouldn't disclose the name of the father. It felt forbidden in her mind, to tell them before she'd told him.

And yet she feared to go and see him.

It had been more than three months since the battle had been won and the enemies were driven away. Fourteen weeks since their night of passion and just as long time since she'd visited him last. Darkness was gnawing on her mind, churning uncomfortably in her stomach and tempting her to hide under her blankets again. But she was sure the other two women would drag her out again.

Besides, she owed it to her baby.

Her _baby_...

_Her_ baby...

_Their baby..._

Rubbing her eyes, the pink-haired woman stepped away from the mirror, refusing to look at it anymore. She slumped down on the bed, sinking deeply into the soft mattress of sakura-patterned covers, releasing a sigh. The swirl of emotions lured her off into her memories, back to a time when girlish dreams were dreams and no such thing as wars and battles existed in one's vocabulary.

It had always been common to discuss their futures when young. The young blonde girl who taught her how to arrange flowers and didn't pre-judge her forehead had been the first to come across the topic. Two children house by the lake had been her great dream, complete with a husband that loved her and held her hand. She'd prattled about it for long moments, never stopping up to ask what her dream was. It had been her greatest kept secret, as she'd always been worried the other girls would tease her if she spoke up.

She'd wanted a house in a field of flowers with a large oak tree carrying a swing large enough for two. There she would sit and enjoy the sunset with her special man, who by that time had neither face nor hair colour. And in time perhaps she would push the swing with a little dark-haired child on it (she'd been adamant that no child of her should inherit her pink locks). She would grow old in that field of flowers, she'd decided, and she had wished a nest of birds would live in her big oak tree.

_I wish I'd told you then..._

Today there was no blonde to gossip with or exchange silly stories and dreams. They died during the war and so did her friend. Another life claimed by the cold and vast darkness, leaving behind family and friends to mourn her passing.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the tight coiling in her stomach, she rolled over on the bed, finding the familiar pillow and clutching it fiercely in her grip. Images flashed behind closed lids, taking her back to the gruesome events as if it had only been yesterday that Konoha bled, trapping her within her own mind.

For the millionth time, she waved to her friend who was finishing off an enemy. For the millionth time the unseen kunai flew through the air at a speed breaking journey. One second she was smiling at her, pleased with how things were going. The next, the smile was covered in blood on the dirty ground, looking up at her beneath lifeless blue eyes.

She hadn't cried then, only accepted what had happened and moved on. At least she tricked her mind into believing that, but when the night fell and she was moving through the unrecognisable landscape covered in blood, searching for her loved ones, the tears had come. Unstoppable, heavy and in thick streams down her cheeks. She'd been forced down on her knees, sinking into the grime and dirt of the ground, banging her hands against it in a futile attempt to fight the tears.

It had been hours later when he showed up and found her. By that time, she'd been unconscious due to the untreated wounds on her body. For a time she suffered from infections and scarring, but she'd retreated into her shell once more and didn't let anyone or anything in. Not even him. Her saviour, her best friend.

Churning uncomfortably in her stomach, she let the guilt and shame for once wash over her. She had to see him today. Both of them.

Sliding off the bed, the floor boards creaked under her weight as feet trudged over the planks and into the little hallway. The bathroom door was opened and closed with a click as the lock slid into its hole. She ignored the mirror again, heading straight into the shower, not bothering to remove the clothes, even after the ice-cold numbness hit her right in the face.

Never had the feelings overcome her this much, letting her head and sensibilities take the lead through a disgustingly brutal wake-up. Almost enough to make her cry again. And yet she couldn't. Enough tears had been shed in the past, enough lives had been wasted for her to weep and shake while she hid from the world under a pile of blankets.

She turned the knob.

Scalding water flushed hot against red skin covered with soppy cloth, hands going over her limbs to scrub it clean of all dirt, sweat and grime that would've stuck to her over the days. Water raining down on her forehead, she just stood a while to relish the cleansing before rubbing soap in and rinsing. Moments later, the shower door opened and she stepped out.

Drip, drip.

The water ran down her length and onto the carpet, gathering in pools around her feet that would've reminded her of another time in which the colour had been red. But attention wasn't turned to the puddles, or to the dripping torture technique used by most ANBU interrogation chiefs. Eyes were tracing the exact double in the mirror, seeing more than feeling the coldness wrap around her as cold air met her wet skin.

Shirt not hanging so loosely on shoulders anymore, bones and muscles standing out amid sloppy cloth, the bulge was more visible than before. Inside the bedroom, it had been...unbelievable. Here, amid the mistiness of a laterally reversed image, an unexplored emotion fluttered in the deep.

Closing her eyes in a sigh, she wrung the shirt off and found a towel to wrap into. At least the picture seemed more normal now. The blacks weren't so black, the colours were vivid and alive. So different from how she felt, how she wanted to truly feel.

Several minutes later, two pairs of eyes met her with surprised expressions, noting the comfy clothes and knot-free hair pulled back from her face. The eyes widened even more when the truth behind her apparel was conveyed, though the smiles softened soon and hands pushed her towards the front door.

It was time to face the world again. To see them again

* * *

Trudging up the slight slope, squinting at the bright sunshine raining down on her, she set her mouth in a grimace at how the muscles were straining under the pressure. Months of dilapidation, letting the body go to waste without training and healthy food; it all seemed so ridiculous now in the light of the new revelations. And yet a part of her knew it had been for something. If she'd returned to duty...some paths wouldn't have opened up like they did. 

Winding up the grassy hill, the dirt-trodden track was soon swallowed by the slumbering forest when it levelled out, trees overshadowing the animal life and lazy creeks hiding within. Once, the forest had been a mighty one, stretching for miles in every direction and the trees huddled tightly together so light was hard to come by unless through small gaps between branches. Now the sunlight was glaring through large cavities where the landscape still bore the scars of a war claiming numerous lives finally over.

Being here brought her back, stilling her feet and anchoring them to the ground as eyes fell on the upturned earth, split tree trunks and deep gaps that marred the forest. Faces turned to her where she stood, looking her over in their recovery work, calloused hands working hard and slow to put the glory back on the landscape. Some seemed like they wanted to greet her, others turned back to their work or trained their eyes elsewhere than on hers.

Without doubt, most of them probably understood why she was there; quiet and morose, walking the path so many had taken before her. Unfreezing from her momentary stop, she willed her legs to move again, to take the agonising first step further on the track before her. Muscles were groaning again, precious tendons complaining about the cracks and knots tightening in her back and neck.

The track turned away from the foreboding place where so much blood at been shed in the past, bending into the thick undergrowth where the branches had been pulled aside to give way for the new side track. Originally, the path had gone through the now bare area, so those like her had decided to make another one, avoiding the second memoir of what they had lost in search of the one that mattered. People like him. Like them.

She came to a stop right inside a large clearing, one side of it overlooking the wide expanse beyond the Hokage monuments, the other framed by forest. This site had been relatively left alone. Although some trees had been lost in the fighting, there were those with unmatched skills that grew them in just a little while.

One of her old captains had been among those, using the powers given him through a snake's experiments and the Shodaime's legacy to give the place the seclusion it needed. People came to this place, not to feel exposed or on display, but to find some comfort or pay homage to the memorial rock situated in the middle. As she felt the shivers begin to run down her spine, remembering the last time she had been standing here, she wasn't sure what she came here for.

Last time the moon had shone down on them, giving no promises of tomorrow, only shedding enough light for them to spend it freely. Today the sun was bright, nauseatingly smiling, drowning whoever stepped outside the door with its happiness.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably, making her sick.

It seemed like eternity had passed before her legs scrambled up the courage to walk across the soft grassy terrain, by that time shaking badly from the strain she'd put on them the last hour or so. Breathing deeply, she set her eyes on the target and proceeded along the line of sight.

Growing bigger and bigger in her side view, the village of Konoha rose up beyond the faces of the past (as the face of present had not yet been constructed), basking itself in glorious sunlight hitting the window panes and wooden walls. Another drop of emotion and it felt like her stomach fell to her ankles, along with every other feeling she might've had. Despite her efforts to shut the world out, all she gained in the end was a world that moved on with its life without her. Though ruined and in ashes, the will of fire would never leave Konoha and its people, like the great Sandaime had once said; the village would rise again to regain its former glory.

She almost stumbled on the stone platting before realising her feet had moved of their own accord, taking her the last distance to the stony memorial. Surprised, she sank down on her knees, hitting the platting without a sound, feeling utterly defeated.

Despite her efforts to shut herself off, the past, present and future would always find a way back to control her unconsciousness.

Fingers moved tentatively forward and traced the carvings under sensitive tips, as if writing the name over and over, carving it more deeply into the rock, into the age of history. Numbing sensations fluttered in her stomach, making it drop dangerously low and churning. Emerald eyes, darkened by the time having flown by, followed the curve of the fingertips, reading the names within the quiet emptiness inside.

Friends of old, friends forgotten and family members had been carved into that rock of memoirs, drifting off into timeless remembrance. One day her name would be onto that one as well. Someone else would sit by this place, tracing her bodiless soul upon ageless memorials, letting their mind flutter back to images of a pink-haired woman who lost her loves and friends to the crucifying life of a shinobi.

Never should either of their families' names be related to the life of a shinobi ever again.

Underneath the layers of flesh, muscles and nerves, was the tiny life they'd created in a moment of passion. Unplanned, fighting with tooth and nail against the way of the shinobi, against the death and misery the days brought them. In a way, doing exactly like they were; doing everything in their power to stay alive although the circumstances were unfavourable and against the odds. A life blooming in the face of death, defiantly.

Her child…_their child_…would never join the hundreds of men and women who fought for their lives on a daily basis. It should have happy childhood, with a house in a field of flowers and a big oak tree with a swing that rocked it gently in its sleep. Sleeping softly in the arms of its mother.

She gave the rock a sad smile, finding his name again and tracing its familiar pattern.

Fourteen weeks since that night. Thirteen weeks and six days since the Hokage saw him fight against one of the Iwa shinobi with a knack for doton jutsus. Thirteen weeks and five days since the day he was announced killed in action. Since then she'd just stopped living. Until today.

From this point on, things would change.

* * *

**To be continued?** **(If I get the time this week...)**

* * *

_Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews I received from all you guys! It really inspired me to get this out quicker than I anticipated! Thanks to _Ashley, Newtype Omega, thepennameboo, tootallygerlily, Ane S. Thesia, Enchantress10, asuka02redeva, firegirl08, mel, Mandy138 _and_ Jemiul_!! And thanks for informing me on the Naruto age of consent/legal drinking age, to all those that did:) And all those who didn't review (I know for a fact there was quite a few of you...) I hope you will take the time to review this time! _

_I have a couple of more ideas to fling into this little story, but unfortunately I don't have all the time in the world this week, so those who really want more - I hope you'll be patient with me. Though, of course, I'll do my best trying to get it written down. With so many glorious reviewers on this site, I may have to do this regularly! ;)_

_ Oh, and for those who didn't understand. It was Kakashi whose name Sakura traced on the memorial...  
_


	3. Marks

_**Fandom: **Naruto   
**Author: **neela   
**Rating:** T (PG-13)   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto at all. It all belongs to Kishimoto-sama..._

* * *

She turned 26 today. Life was good.

Combining birthday party with baby shower had seemed like a good idea at the time, but there was nothing else that elicited more regret right now. People had shown up, faces of friends and colleagues, bringing the odd variety of wrapped-up presents and good wishes. Smiles were on everyone's face, the air high with merry spirit and companionship like none had known in the last year.

Sitting plump in a comfy chair, covered in brightly coloured wrapping paper, threads of shiny curls and a generally pleased atmosphere, her mind couldn't help but reflect over the situation. Time had passed, people and events were returning to their pre-war routines, things running more smoothly than before. The dark memories of the past seemed to some like only a distant experience, something they had managed to overcome and moved past. To others, the cruelty of the war still gripped them through the days.

Yet of course, none could escape the dreams at night, when the mind was vulnerable and exposed. None could be protected from dreams and nightmares, the brain being such a complex entity none knew what to make of it, least of all how to alter it. She was no exception to the rule, a notion that desperately wanted to vanish under the radar and hide away from the world. How many nights had she not woken, sweaty and screaming at the darkness in a room filled with memories?

Calling out to him, needing him, wishing his embrace was around her.

Eyes drifted from every man and woman within the spacey living room of a Hyuuga complex, lingering for a moment, moving on to the next in an almost lazy way. Without doubt, she wasn't the only one calling out to someone at night, someone they'd lost in the war or other missions, someone very dear and precious to them, who'd been there all their lives or perhaps only a fraction of it. Nonetheless, making some sort of impact on them. A deep, emotional mark on their souls (and bodies, she remarked with a small amount of humour, thinking of herself), to which shinobi resistance was ineffective and useless. There was no fighting a thing like that.

The burly, gentle man rapidly gaining weight again over by the food table had been her blonde friend's unrequited love, a relationship killed in the tantalising beginning by the cruel and dark world of shinobi. Such a comforting and horribly sensitive soul defeated by the sight of his beloved lying among the remains of her enemies. It was only recently that he managed to get out of his self-imposed captivity again.

Lanky, almost taller than the Rokudaime and with the ever-present lazy attitude, the burly man's best friend had been lucky enough to not lose his heart's love, as the curly blond kunoichi had been in her home country at the time with their twins. However, he also took the ex-team mate's death hard, though what seemed to almost crush him was the death of his father. Already one father figure had died so many years ago; the death of another was just...unexplainable, as he'd told her during one of their shougi lessons.

There had been so many people who made a mark on her soul throughout the past, some who still continued to do so now, either in life or in death. The Rokudaime was one of them, along with his little family. After the battle claiming so many lives, of which she refused to come out of her home when the funerals were finished, he had been her dearest friend, her greatest supporter and companion. He'd been in her life forever, from their time together as lowly genin, through chuunin, jonin (even ANBU) until they both quit when their ex-team mate died.

It was a death she had taken hard at the time, as the dark-haired man had long been forgiven and redeemed after his dealings with the snake sannin and older brother. A boy who matured at the age of 16 and saw reason, who worked so hard to earn the respect of his equals and elders, who in the end died from an incurable illness left behind as a fail-safe device by his former master. At the funeral, the Godaime placed the long-sought and wanted hitai-ate on his grave stone. Only in death was he finally acknowledged by the whole village.

And yet no one had ever made such an impact on her soul and body than the silver-haired lazy man who read hentai books in public. She liked to compare him to an onion. One could peel off layer upon layer of his soul and still one wouldn't get to the innermost core in his personality. An air of mystery surrounded him for all the time that she knew him, not letting her sink past all the layers until the one night that changed her life.

The night that definitely left a mark on her body.

Suddenly smiling, she shifted in her seat to caress her belly with both hands, humming almost perceptively beneath her breath. Fingertips trailing the curve underneath silky fabrics, tickling gently at the sides of the waist, completely aware of the slight fluttering within. Two days had passed since it happened first, taking her utterly by surprise in the middle of the night as she woke up from a rather vicious nightmare. By all means, it had almost seemed like the tiny life had detected its mother's distress, deciding it would be time to announce its presence.

Medical expertise had kicked in lately, nagging at her mind that by now the sex of the foetus could be decided, but at the check-up with her old shishou she had told herself there was still time. At least it was completely healthy, another testament to its spirit of survival beside the fact it had hung on while she had gone into despair and not taken care of her health. A thing her shishou had also made sure to point out and knock into her, writing up a list of all the things she now had to eat and exercises to do.

Gaze drifted to the large present sitting on the gift table, a box with a variety of necessary baby clothes and items, some of them practical and sweet while others had been down-right hideous. She was sure her old sensei had been absolutely thrilled and secretly pleased there would be another little child to spoil rotten beside her "nephew", the son of the Rokudaime. A benevolent smile spread across her face at the thought and images that followed.

The party was still going strong, despite it being hours since it began with the big boom of fireworks from the Hokage tower. They'd watched the display outside the Hyuuga home, where the Rokudaime lived with his wife and son, the sparks and vibrant colours enticing and eliciting a sort of childish excitement. Flutters beneath a soft grip had been nearly constant, as the little life was probably reacting to the loud sounds from the fireworks, yet calmed towards the end as she stroked the belly comfortingly.

During the six weeks since the discovery of her pregnancy, she had grown very close to the tiny foetus growing inside her, full of life in her otherwise dark and dreary day-to-day. A life growing against the way of the shinobi had brought shreds of light, blurry hope, like it was destined to change her life, her way of living, her point of view on the harsh realities shinobi were faced with.

Her only wish had been for him to share it with her. Of all the people she knew, before and after the darkest chapter of the life, perhaps he had been the one who would benefit the most from a changed way of thinking. Always one foot in the past, one in the grave, seemingly moving through life without really moving at all, he had been trapped in self-imposed guilt and a low life-quality perspective. When he survived and others died, he didn't say that was how things happened. Paying daily homage to the memorial stone, nursing the guilt and shame over survival, he imagined it was his own name craved into the rock.

Now that his wish had been granted, she had her doubts it had been what he really wanted at the end. Every night she woke up from her nightmares, screaming his name in the night, she believed he hadn't wanted to leave her behind. Though never uttering the words of love, there had always been some sort of underlying knowledge beneath their consciousness, a strong emotion that caused them to come back to each other despite not having a relationship, day after day until death split them apart. None could ascertain the exact value and depth of this unnamed emotion, neither of them having experienced something of the like in their time, but that night...

They had acknowledged something. The deep and unbreakable bond that tied their souls together on such a scale they didn't know up or down.

The tears came more easily to her nowadays, the hormonal instability playing its part at the worst possible moments as well. Rising from the chair, she stood up and went outside for some fresh air and privacy. If anyone commented on her departure or wondered out loud, it went unnoticed and ignored.

Moonlight lit the garden outside the veranda, highlighting the lush bloom as the spring lured the flowers and trees out of their winter slumber. A low humming came from the insects awake at night, dancing around to their own rhythmic music. Along the narrow path of small bonsai trees, close to a carved bench of stone, there was a trickling water pump of bamboo, the occasional _thump_ breaking through the dim silence of the night.

Sitting down on the bench, pulling the knitted jacket around her tightly and letting the fat drops fall silently onto her lap. Marks of tears marred her skirt, but she couldn't find it in her to care, less to make it stop. It was cleansing, sort of, to have these small moments of crying, slowly learning to let go of the grief lest she become like two of the most important men of her life. Over the past six weeks, there had been many of them, as the child grew and affected her body more and more.

She had no idea how long she sat out there, alternating between crying and staring at the moon, letting the mind be overcome by memories, but at one point her ears picked up the sound of someone treading softly on grassy ground. Only another second was needed to identify the other person and letting her neck muscles relax and flex away the tenseness. It must be awhile since she exited the room as he came to check up on her.

Though he never knew the story or who the man behind her emotions and unborn baby was, the Rokudaime would never stop being a friend to her.

Shadows crossed his face as he passed underneath the swaying branches of the taller trees, the silvery streaks of moonlight adding to the contrast and making him seem like someone else. Had it not been for the long bangs framing his angular face or the triple marks on each cheek, she might've mistaken him for someone else. In the state of mind she was in, she almost wished it had been _him_ instead.

Wiping away the watery trails with one end of her top, sniffing away the sadness and trying to regain some sort of control, her eyes widened slightly as he stopped a pace away, just staring at her strangely. It was not like him at all. Usually the hugs would be there immediately, followed by comforting nonsense words and caressed. For a moment, the image before her morphed into one of him during war time, when the world had been weighing heavily on his shoulder before the victories came to Konoha.

Just as suddenly, as if coming to a decision, he gave her the familiar smile, the one that told her everything would be all right, that he would look after her. Relaxing the sudden tension in neck muscles, she sank further down on the bench, scooting over to give him room. He was there in a quiet flash, arms already around her, drowning her with compassion and strength.

No words were necessary in situations like this; they knew what was needed and not: Silent support in a time of mourning.

* * *

Trailing a path being more and more worn through blossoming forest and undergrowth, she had been to the memorial today. Again paying homage to the victims and beloved carved into ageless history, continuing the tradition he had started so many years ago when his own friends passed to the other side. In a way, this made her feel more connected to him, the undefined emotion growing deeper as the darkness retreated more and more for each passing day.

A smile was on her face, the trappings of night having released its grip as the sun broke over the horizon, filtering through the curtains of her bedroom. Morning rituals had previously consisted of sickness and dizzy spells, but it had gratifyingly started to wane and instead allowed her to sleep in before attending part-time duty at the hospital. Only light duty, of course, although she occasionally went beyond the restriction her shishou had put on her, helping on some of the more severe cases when the medics were dangerously overworked.

Lunch break were usually spent by the memorial, but today she had gotten off early and was due for a meeting with the Hokage in a few minutes followed by a casual lunch at one of the tea houses (he promised her 'no ramen'). Thus she had visited the rock of immortality before the normal time, laying down the flowers she'd brought along, and was now nearly to the red-painted building with the kanji for 'fire' painted on the front.

Stepping into his office, the familiar blonde shock of hair met her in their multiple forms, his excessive use of the trademark jutsu irking her just a bit. Really, it was cheating to have more than one of oneself to do the paperwork, only so one could fall onto the plush pillows in the corner designed for his son and fall asleep.

Sensing the twitching in her arm, she stepped over the floor firmly, ignoring the wide eyes of his clones, bopping him hard on the head. He woke up immediately, sleepy eyes awake in a second as he realised what was going on and saw the look in her eyes.

A few minutes later, being seated in one of the chairs by the desk, stroking gently over her belly, she asked him what had him so worried. Bringing up last night as an example, as well as the various sealed scrolls of highest importance and the fact an ANBU was standing just outside his office.

The world on his shoulders seemed to weigh even more today, as if her anger and worry had added to the burden, or something completely different. Another steely gaze was exchanged before he caved, leaning forward on his elbows and balancing his head in strong hands. Those hands had been the cause of much, ranging from destruction to creating new life, yet now they seemed tense and worried. The knuckles were even whitening, carrying on with the tension until she voiced her question again.

She never should have asked.

When the full truth came out, indescribable anger filled her, born from the churning maelstrom of hurt twirling around in the deepest of her being. ANBU reports had been coming in all week, he said, and yet he hadn't told her anything at all. He'd kept it all from her until this moment, just when she had come back from the memorial and looking forward to spend a glorious lunch break with her favourite friend.

The chair was flung backwards as legs pushed the body unto its feet, voice icy as she expressed exactly how much she was disappointed in the Hokage. A heart's breath later and the door slammed behind her, feet carrying her swiftly through the hallways and stairwells until she reached fresh air, another emotion driving away the anger and hurt to take the top place. She needed to return to the hospital, to take care of the wounded that was sure to come in.

Half running, she felt dizziness at the corners of the mind, the situation beginning to catch up after being delayed by shock, so she pushed chakra to her sore feet and sped up as fast as her condition would allow her. It wasn't much, but at least she reached the hospital in less the time it would have taken to walk fast.

The nurse at the reception desk sent her a frightened look when she leaned over and demanded to know which room the wounded ANBU had been taken into. As assistant head medic, certain privileges had been given to her, but in the present part-time active duty (the other half was for desk duty) there were fewer things she was allowed to do, not to mention her old shishou had told the personnel to refuse certain responsibilities if she asked. And also not give in even if her temper flared.

But this time she _insisted_ on the room number, putting on her worst glare and unleashing some of the killer intent rolling off her in waves. A stutter was uttered and soon she was on her way down the correct hallway, looking for the number of the door she had been given. Turning a corner, a mass of medics and nurses went in and out of one door, blocking her path until she realised what door it was.

At that exact moment, her momentum fell and all courage had long since deceived and left her. Darkness threatened to overcome her when the smell filtered through slim nostrils, burnt and rotten flesh slipping past the entryway and into the hallway. She sank down on the floor, feeling horrible and fighting the crucifying swirl of emotions in the deep.

Things were happening too fast. Only moments ago she'd been in the Hokage's office, prepared for lunch, now she was outside a room containing a severely wounded ANBU, trying desperately to muster the nerve and consciousness to enter. Too fast, too soon, too sudden. This wasn't really supposed to happen; she'd been content with how things were. She hated changes, always had. She clung unto whatever constant she had to avoid the instability reality often brought, not wanting to go down into the deep like life wanted so many times.

Another nurse must have taken pity on her, because she was suddenly pushed gently to the wall, a comforting hand on her shoulder. Looking up dazedly, knowing the pain must be reflected in her eyes, she realised who it was. The Hokage's wife stared down at her, mustering a small smile and conveying a thought she didn't have the hope to believe. It would be all right. He would survive.

Was it at all possible? Could the man survive what he'd been through, coming back to a village slowly rising up on its feet again after a fateful war?

Could she find it in her to allow life change?

The soft-spoken dark-haired woman sat with her for she didn't know how long, as medics and nurses hurried back and forth, one or two times calling out for something or someone, needing the help.

At one point, she must've fallen asleep, for when she woke there was darkness outside and the moon shone brightly. The woman who'd comforted her was nowhere to be seen, probably going off-shift hours ago and leaving her care to someone else. That someone had put her in bed. A hospital bed inside a room with a very sterile smell; the very same room she had been mustering courage to enter. Now she had been thrown into the waters, left to her own fate and destiny.

Swallowing her fears, legs swung out of the bed and onto the clean floor. The clock told her it was nearly midnight, several hours after night shift had started, and almost half a day since she came here.

Slow, tantalising barefoot steps across a darkened floor, stepping around the screen blocking her from view, and there he was.

Bloodied and bruised, torn and mangled beyond belief and hope—it was a sight that sent the nerves strong electric impulses to the memory part of her brain, burning the image into her mind. Legs were crushed, tendons cut off or burned. One of his hands had been tread upon, broken and not managed to heal correctly. Cuts and whip lashes, scarring from old and ancient wounds from a time before hers. And where his eye had once been, was only a bloody rag from where it had been stabbed by kunai. Self-inflicted, she'd heard the medics say.

He never would let anyone take his friend from him.

It was enough cause to let the gates flood and weep with the mixture of emotions swirling around in the bottom of her stomach. When his eye cracked open beneath a swollen eye lid, she couldn't help it. Tears ran down in heavy streams, her head ducking in a strong sob as she constricted at the middle and curled her body together in the chair beside the bed.

But she couldn't take her eyes away from him. Even in the state he was, there was still the strong chin and silvery hair that defied nature's gravity she had loved about him. Though cramped together, limbs wrapped up in post-op routines, he was rank and lanky, although horribly vulnerable and exposed.

The black orb coloured with confusion and sleepiness, his face probably grimacing at the strain of focusing on the sounds she emitted. When at last it met hers, gazing into her watery emerald eyes, there was nothing to stop her from flinging herself on top of the bed, careful as not to crush him, grasping the sheets and sobbing uncontrollably.

For a minute she lay there, in the distance hearing the disembodied beeps and sounds of machines he was connected to. More than ten of them, underlining what a horrible situation he was in. But neither of that mattered to her. He was _alive_. Alive and currently lying underneath her hands and head, offering involuntarily his leg for comfort.

And the baby... Their tiny, little baby who'd been created on the eve of a battle so great it was written into remembrance as a miracle they'd survived, without planning and with no thought whatsoever on what kind of impact it would have on its mother's life. A child of shinobi who fought against its parents' way of life, their daily living, whom she had sworn would never follow in their footsteps.

A child she had never believed would see its father.

Fluttering in her belly, she felt the urgent need to look upon him again, leaning on her elbows and lifting the torso off the bed. The contact was immediate, the familiar connection rushing through her as she grasped his hand – the good one – and held it tightly against the wild thumping under her chest. He looked at her, lips moving without sound, still grimacing as he couldn't do what he wished the most, giving her a hint of the question and emotion she sought.

She moved the hand further down, beneath her breast and onto the gentle curve of her middle. The seconds ticked by, the confusion growing thicker for every thumping heartbeat, until...a fluttering, strong and vicious against the hands of its parents.

His eye bore the tell-tale sign of shock, stretching on for several moments while the churning began in the deep again, wondering whether or not it had been a good idea. But then its gaze softened before closing, the lines upon his marred face relaxing by a notch and his lips twitching in what could only have been a smile. She wasn't sure whether the pain was becoming too much, or if he's just been so vulnerable that there was no controlling his feelings, but a tear began to wound down his chin.

She turned 26 yesterday. Albeit unstable, life was still good.

* * *

**To be continued? Ask my muse...**

* * *

_Aren't you happy now? I made him alive again! Although, that had been my intention from the start. His "death" just gave me the possibility to have Sakura reflect on some of those subjects I wanted to highlight with this story. I have another chapter idea at the back of my head, but I'll have to see if I get the inspiration to write it out._

_Arigato gozaimasu to everyone who reviewed! _**Jemiul, mel, EireVerde, anonymous, SpeedDemon315, Ashley, tootallygerlily, crazyjingles, Ane S. Thesia**_ and_** Kitteness.**_ It really made my days worthwhile to have such great replies from you readers and I'd love to have more:) Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will REVIEW again! _


	4. Winds

_**Fandom: **Naruto  
**Author: **neela  
**Rating:** T (PG-13)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto at all. It all belongs to Kishimoto-sama..._**  
**

* * *

The flower blooming in adversity is the strongest and fairest of them all.

Throughout time history repeated itself, trapped in the traditions and regulations of a culture that never changed, which held steadfast against the winds. Duties were passed down from mother to daughter, father to son, sensei to student, every living person keeping the life they knew alive. Rules of the mind, rules of the body: rules of the society. Children would honour their parents, parents would protect their children. Leadership would become the frame to which all was connected, keeping it within its little space, never allowing it to stray too far away.

Deep in their hearts, not a single living person wanted to uproot the life they were living, to have it all come crashing down in one brutal sweep. In a harsh and unrealistic reality, everyone wanted a little piece of stability; a piece they could call home. Even civilians weren't blind to that, though they were often strictly content with the small life on the farm or the shop, knowing they weren't those that risked their lives and futures daily. But they did their best to take care of those shinobi who did, and of those who were left behind.

In the world of shinobi, change would never be sudden, though it would seem that way at the time to the unseeing and hardened eye. The winds don't have the strength to rip down the mountain, only smooth its edges and slowly, over time, grind it down to dust.

But once in a while, there would be something that changed the world of someone. Sometimes a big thing and other times a little thing; never the same or comparable. Nor was every man and woman affected by the little gust of wind.

Sitting in the grass upon the patterned picnic blanket, face up to greet the sunlight raining warmly on her, she leaned back on her palms and felt content. Today the sun had shone so brightly, the sky had bore no clouds, so she had decided to eat out in the fields of flowers beyond the memorial in the renovated area.

The place was perfect, giving enough shade near the trees to screen the heat and direct sunlight if it became bothersome, colourful and vibrant with the multitude of flowers growing there. Nearby a tiny creek clucked rhythimcally, lulling her mind off to land of images and emotions, threatening with a darkness that was good. It was tempting, really, to just lie back and let the drowsiness overtake the body, but the nagging worry at the back of her awareness kept her away.

Opening jade green eyes, brows drawn in a slight crease above pert nose, she let the gaze travel over the fields of flowers, immediately calming once she saw everything was all right. There had been no real reason to worry, a voice inside chided, so she relaxed the sudden tense fists, smoothing out the creases in the blanket. Her head lulled back towards the sun, welcoming the rays as her skin had been rather pale during winter.

An indescribable joy took over her senses, delighted in this warm spring day as the months of cold and shade had been so long and troubled, a complete opposite of this fine day. Like walking through a waterfall, cleansed and opened up for a totally different scene, watching the secret valleys beyond stretch out and grow underneath the blue sky. The adventurer in her was happy to find this place, to have a little bit of peace in the now stabilising world where the winds blew softly.

So much had happened in the years past, yet now it seemed almost like a distant memory compared to this setting, pushed away for the more enjoyable experience of sitting in a field of flowers, letting the sun warm her up, having next to no worries. Except for one, of course, but _she_ was doing fine, only pleased to be on her own. Big eyes found the source of worry, a happy smile colouring her face.

Stumbling ever so slightly, the little girl with unruly pale pink locks trudged through the colours of nature, sniffing and picking up a new one, delightful noises escaping her lips. To her, this was a wonderful world of life and colours unthreatened by darkness, a world to be explored and experienced. Her everyday worries consisted of feeding time, naps and all the new things she was taught and understood by society.

It amazed her mother how the child had already started to walk, though with several stumbles and falls along the way, but the girl always picked herself up and moved on without a cry. Strong will and determination was something that had been passed down from both parents, yet it didn't escape her mind that somehow this little girl would grow up to be more like her father than her mother. Already she had shown signs of great intelligence, always being one step ahead of everyone's expectations and doing what they thought was impossible at her age. Yet she had competition in the Rokudaime's second son, who was also quite bright and possibly the most happy-go-lucky kid in the world.

Watching them grow up would fill her life with joy.

A particular blue flower with tiny green leaves and long petals tinted with yellow had drawn the girl's immediate attention, grasped in her fist within the second and brought up for scrutiny. The leaves seemed to annoy her greatly and were picked off and thrown away with small huffs, the big smile returning once every leaf was gone.

Satisfied, the little girl turned in direction of the large tree nearby, happily making her way there with the stripped flower in hand. Rising from her spot on the picnic blanket, the jade-eyed woman went to follow her daughter, letting her hands sway softly over the tallest flowers along the path and smiling. The grin grew as the girl reached the tree, falling into the lap of the person sitting crosslegged in its shade, relaxing with a closed eye.

A lazy orb flipped open to gaze at the flower awarded to him from the little girl, taking in calmly the wide smile and bright eyes looking back up at him. Shock white hair turned grey in the shade bopped down as he tilted his head, one hand rising to grasp the flower in its grip. The girl laughed as pale pink hair was ruffled underneath a second hand, happy that her father enjoyed the gift, delighted in his familiar affection.

She climbed into his lap, plopping down comfortably on a muscular tigh and finding her favourite toy in the form of buttons on the green vest. Fortunately, the scrolls usually inside had been removed to a safer spot, as experience had shown what a disaster it could turn out when a little baby found a new chewing toy. The faithful dogs hadn't wanted to come out for quite awhile.

Leaning back against the tree, the man savoured the moment, eye creased in a smile as the woman stepped into the shade as well. Lips spread in joy, dimples appearing on slightly blush cheeks, hands went out to touch each other, to brush gently over knuckles. Comfortable air and a little girl kept them apart, her standing tall and rank over him while he sat on grassy ground and enjoyed himself.

A lifetime ago the scene would have been impossible to imagine and there was still doubt even this could be true. War had been integrated in their souls; death had taken away so many of their friends and family. In the end, it had been what brought them together, what pushed the two lonely souls into a swirl of winds to take them far and beyond the reality they knew. To them, it had only been a moment in time meant to cherish before the darkness came, but faith or destiny, they knew not what, had decided otherwise.

More than a year ago, she had lost both trust and belief that the winds would come to sweep them away again. Locked up in a small apartment with only the scent of his old clothes keeping company, memories had been what she was left with until the day the breeze caught up with her. A life created in the slumbering darkness, strong and fighting against the framework of society, bringing the hope and truth she needed.

And then the winds sped up, swirling around the main characters of their story and bringing the plot onwards, towards the sudden climax that turned the tides. Life became good again, because where there had been one, then two, there were now three. Their little merry band of undefined emotions churning in the bottom of their beings had been brought together. He had come back from the darkness to share the life and joy she had wanted, to see the trees sway in the wind and grow.

Kneeling down, torso tipped slightly forward above an unruly mop of pink hair, a sign of their emotions were exchanged with a content sigh, lips soft and willing. She sat close, leaning half on the tree and half on him, not wanting to strain him more than necessary. Warmth was a welcomed pleasure in their days, a need for comfort and compassion born early on in their past as friends had succumed to eternity. An arm sneaked around her shoulders, wringing free of the child pluddering happily to herself while snapping the buttons shut and unsnapping them again. A smile crossed her delicate features, leaning into the closeness of her husband.

The Rokudaime had been very happy when his old sensei came back from enemy captivity, promising the world if it would make him better, though he soon realised it had been someone else who could complete it. To say he was surprised would be a lie, a testament to his developed perception and understanding over the years. In the quiet of the hospital ward he had revealed his suspicions, even before she silently admitted who the father of her child had been. He had always known her better than she believed.

And then he gave them his blessing.

Until that moment, she hadn't realised how much that particular action had meant to her. The second last living reminder of a man she had known in youth, extending his well wishes on behalf of them all, from his family and him to the boy who had fallen into a snake's hands. Tears had been shed in the comfort of a friend's embrace; forgiveness for keeping her lover's return secret had already been given.

Long fingers threaded through short pink locks, brushing teasingly over a sensitive scalp, bringing her back to the present. The girl child had climbed out of the lap again, walking unsteadily but determined out of the tree's shade, blubbering in an indecipherable language yet delighted at the colours and life surrounding her.

For a moment, muscles prepared themselves to follow, to keep the wariness and protectiveness awake, but it was forgotten as the warmth enveloped her, tugging her closer still. Jade eyes tilted sideways to gaze into the single black orb, the other covered by navy blue cloth, noting immediately the changes in appearance.

No matter how much he played the strong card around in public, he had never completely recovered from the ordeals of the dark past. War, capture, interrogation and torture – things he had been faced with, fortunately also survived to tell the tale.

A pained twitch near the eye cavity, the one that had been lost in the last act of protecting a long lost friend, told her what the problem was. Reaching up to palm the navy cloth, she gave a grim smile while concentrating the chakra necessary for giving relief. Despite her studies of his special eye, far back when the medic-nin exams were coming up, an absolute solution had not been reached. It irked her, naturally, but there was little to be done except offer relief from pain and phantom senses.

He gripped her hand, removing it as a sign everything was better now, even giving the familiar eye crease most people associated with a smile. The thin, silky fabric of his mask was pulled down, her head tilting up to give a lingering kiss upon soft lips. Pulling back, fingers traced the scars of darkness, the mind recalling every story behind them. All acquired through war and battles, none ever an accident with scissor or kitchen knife.

It reminded her of how cold the winter had truly been, even when he was alive and awake he struggled with the cruel aftermath. Never had the wounds been so extensive, so many of them irrepairable, that the place he hated the most became a prison with ball chains and the doors open. Within the four walls of his cell, a battle of two minds had been born from the inner struggle in which he was trapped for a very long time. The tears he had cried the first time they met didn't return as the body grew stronger, giving way to the mind to roam freely.

One especially cold night, she had realised the extent of the emotional scars hidden beneath the healing exterior, as a severely harsh and uncharacteristic treatment was flung into her face. She tried again, many times, desperate to help him regain his former state of mind, but in the end felt compelled to stop her visits.

Their daughter was born without him there, as he'd promptly refused attending.

The Rokudaime had held her hand in his stead, encouraged by his wife, muttering the silly and comforting words as pain ripped through her abdomen like a true man would. And when the little baby girl was put in her arms, covered in blood and vernix, the tears had been shed both in joy and sorrow.

His actions had hurt her deeply, keeping her away from him while secretly waiting for his mind to heal along with the body. She received regularily updates from the hospital, often from her shishou as the blonde woman had taken responsibility of his case, too stubborn to let him wallow in his own mud and determined to make her old student happy. But despite the woman's attempts at healing beyond the body, he was unreachable and heading down a very dangerous path to the depth.

It came both as a surprise and not when he'd tried to follow in his father's ungraceful footsteps. Yet when the news reached their little household, she had forgotten all about the fears and hurt, the undecipherable emotion swirling within taking control and flying her to the hospital.

For two nights, she sat by his side, clutching the pale and cold hand previously broken, tracing the changes made in the months since she saw him last. Waiting in the dark while the clock on the wall ticked away, counting the seconds and minutes in a never ending mantra, refusing to let sleep overcome her. Everytime the breasts were bursting with milk, painfully milked out by nimble fingers, thoughts went to the daughter staying with the soft-spoken wife of the Rokudaime, who soon would give birth herself.

When at last he woke, black orb emotionless as it found and identified the pink-haired woman sitting by his side, silence filled the room for many hours. The hand which had held his lay restless on the mattress; she'd removed it early as she didn't know how he would react. Neither of them moved, spoke a word or looked at each other. Or at least, she was staring at him, gauging his next move, while he studied the roof. The bandage tied around his wrists served as constant reminders to what he had done, left in place as her shishou had felt it better to have him realise what he'd truly wanted to do.

At one point she'd fallen asleep in her chair, exhaustion finally overcoming the senses and mind's will power, dragging her away from the present. When she woke, he'd fallen asleep again. Morning had broken; the sun warm and promising.

And their hands were joined upon the bed.

She smiled through her tears.

Hearts connected again, forgiveness was given and the winds were happily moving on again, taking them on towards rebuilding a life they had known and participating in another.

Like their newborn daughter, lanky legs had been forced to relearn the basics of walking and standing. Pride had been an easy target for shame and humiliation, easily showing a path leading to self-imposed darkness, yet that connection between them which still had no words uttered in its honour, opened the door for determination and will power.

Legs still stumbled sometimes, him often excusing it as accidents when in front of others, but in private he let her see the true emotions behind the curved eye smile. It was humiliating for one of their profession to be in such a position, the trade snugly integrated into their bodies and minds. If the body and mind wasn't functional, a mission would have to be aborted.

Many missions had been aborted in his case.

As of now, the shinobi life was just a distant memory tucked away in the back of their minds, current daily life consisting of watching the intelligent little girl with unruly pale pink locks and sharp dark green eyes stumble over a field of flowers. The swing wasn't in the picture, neither was the house, but the trees and people with real faces were there. So very close to the childhood dream.

Lazy arms, slowly gaining strength from each day that passed, drew her closer still, two pairs of eyes gazing at one another in content comfort. Sitting underneath the tree's swaying shade, a mix of lingering pain and emotions never defined or uttered swirled in the depths. His heartbeat was thumping steadily underneath the green vest where the buttons had been unsnapped, her own beat joining his as hands entwined and calm fell over them.

Words weren't necessary. After a reality that would've taken them into the complete darkness had the winds kept still, both knew what the other felt and thought.

They started out as sensei and student, evolved to equal jounins and were now tied in holy matrimony. From the start there had been a connection, never releasing its grip even though they drifted apart for a few years and then were brought back together again by the war. Not even when the darkness threatened to swallow them whole.

When the wind began to blow, they went along with it, allowing it to change their realities and beliefs if only to find some comfort. The night they'd shared had been a rock falling and turning into an avalanche, sweeping them off their feet until they realised it was necessary to move onwards even if the world stood still.

The emotional scars were still there, marked upon their souls, their bodies and minds showing signs of age older than they were. Maturity lined their eyes, their wisdom shone through in their actions. Yet with the way of the shinobi, who would be surprised?

Watching their happy daughter stumble across the fields, they knew that someday the way of the shinobi would once again earn their daily bread, as the tide could never completely erase what had been engraved into their bones. Yet with a contented relief, they knew that their daughter would never bend to society's cruel reality. She would always be walking in a field of flowers, happy and carefree without the burdens of dealing out and receiving death.

After all, the flower blooming in adversity is the strongest and fairest of them all.

* * *

**Owari**

* * *

_Finished! I know that some of you wanted me to write much more, but I have to say my muse wasn't very cooperative. I had already written the outline for the story, so no matter how much I tried, I couldn't stray off the path already chosen. I do hope this chapter satisfied a few minds, however, and please say so if it did or didn't in a review:) _

_Thanks to everyone who's stayed with me during this little story! _**Chibi Makoto, tootallygerlily, Ashley, Jemiul, Ane S. Thesia, ArashiSakura, mel, Artemis, IisdaRikki, M, internet pencil, Kitteness, crazyjingles, SpeedDemon315, anonymous, EireVerde, Newtype Omega, Mandy138, firegirl08, asuka02redeva, Enchantress10 **_and_** thepennameboo**_I hope I'll see you again once I get to that other Naruto story of mine (with an eventual KakaSaku pairing). There'll be angst, of course, as that's always lays a really good foundation for reflection on certain topics. ;)_


End file.
